I still love him. I don't know why, anymore.
When I think back on everything we did together, I'm almost angry with myself. I would have done anything for him. He asked for my body, and I gave him my heart on a silver platter.
At least he was honest about the other girls. I almost didn't mind... almost. Almost didn't feel betrayed... almost. I wasn't there for him; how could I begrudge him a little fun? Besides, they didn't mean anything to him. He got a little drunk, this led to that....They didn’t mean anything to him, he told me himself.
I’m still yours, girl. All yours.
When he left me, he told me there would always be room for me in his bed if I came to visit.
...
He’s started talking to me again after two months of near-silence. Everyone tells me to not to talk to him anymore, but-- I can’t. He asks for a picture; hasn’t seen me in ages, you know.
You’re lookin’ cute, girl. Found a new boy yet?
I tell him I’ve become celibate. He laughs.
Ah, fuck.
It hurts.
I still love him.